The Story of a Man, A Woman, and the Corpses of 1000 Evil Students
by earlysunsetsovermydeadbody
Summary: Charlotte Payn's new art professor, Gerard Way, brings excitement along with complication to her life.
1. Chapter 1

_Left foot. Right foot. Left foot._

My boots were scuffing the pavement as I willed my body to get to class on time. The throbbing in my head echoed with each step I took, but every one brought me closer to the lecture hall. Normally I would be self conscious about my very obviously hung over appearance, but I pushed my sunglasses up my nose and kept going. I was too exhausted to care.

I fished around in my jacket pocket for my pack of Camel's and stuffed one in between my lips before lighting it. I still had to cross campus, so I had time for a smoke. I inhaled, feeling the cool menthol smoke pool in my lungs. I snorted it out of my nose in a rush, letting out a small cough.

Someone else seemed to be walking towards the same building I was. I saw them in the corner of my eye, dressed all in black and taking large strides. I glanced at them quickly.

He was dressed smartly and had a peculiar bounce in his step for such an early hour. He had black dress pants, a black button up, a black waistcoat, and a black peacoat to top it all off. He must have caught me looking at him because he cut over to me, making me halt when he stopped in front of me.

"You can't smoke on campus," he said flatly. I blinked behind my sunglasses, slightly disappointed he couldn't see me rolling my eyes.

"Nobody gives a shit," I muttered, pursing my lips. "It's too early for this, leave me alone." I stepped around him, shoving my hands back in their pockets. I was freezing.

"Give me one," he said from behind me. I stopped, looking at him over my shoulder. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, right behind his head, and it killed my eyes. I didn't feel up to arguing with him and kept walking. "Give me one, and I won't report you."

Now _that_ got on my nerves.

"What are you, three? You going to tell on me to the teacher?" I sneered.

"Just might. They're slapping people with smoking fines. But I know where you don't get caught." He slid his sunglasses down his nose, looking at me expectantly. I begrudgingly held my pack out to him. "Follow me," he said, his heels clicking on the pavement.

"I have to get to class. Have a nice day, jackoff." I made a beeline for my classroom, not caring to see his reaction. My cigarette had since gone out and I flicked it into a nearby planter before sneaking in the back door to the lecture hall. I rubbed my eyes under my glasses; it was going to be a long day.

I met up with my friend Jessica in the break we had between classes. We both had graphic design together next, and were stereotypically lying on the grass on one of the hills on campus.

"It's only the third week of classes and I already feel like dying," Jessica said, lazily flicking through her phone. "Only one more year til graduation, and boy, let me tell you, I am so fucking ready."

"Me too. I'm ready to get a degree in a field that I'm never going to be able to find a job in because I'm shit. I'm shit at design, Jessica." I said, staring up at the clouds.

"No you're not, Charlotte. Hell, you're better than me. And you know it," she said, rising to her feet. She held a hand down to me, "come on. We have art next." I took her hand and stretched, shaking the grass out of my short hair. I still wasn't used to my new schedule, so I wasn't all too sure where the classes were. I just walked in the general direction of the art building, Jessica guiding me to the right classroom. We took our usual seats at the back, but my heart froze when I looked to the teacher's desk after getting my sketchbook from my backpack.

"Do you know where Hawthorn is?" I hissed to Jessica, who was regarding our substitute with hooded eyes.

"Don't know, don't care," she purred. Hawthorn was our beloved androgynous graphic arts professor, and her disappearance caused me stress. She had taught me almost all of the years I had been at this university.

"Don't open your legs yet, Jessica. This guy is an asshole. Threatened to report me for smoking on campus this morning then told me to bum him a cigarette," I whispered to her. She shrugged.

"Hey, you need to stop smoking. He should have reported you," she grunted.

"I do it for the _motion_ of smoking, not the nicotine addiction. I can stop smoking anytime I want!" I said, my voice rising despite my caution at this new sub.

"Do it. Give me your cigarettes," she held her hand out flatly, not even looking at me. When I didn't put them in her hand, she glanced at me. "That's what I thought, Charlie." I sunk down in my seat after that, glaring at anybody who tried to talk to me. I kept my sketchbook shut, along with my lips. I sunk even lower in my seat when the new teacher stood up. He had shed his jacket and had rolled up his sleeves, revealing creamy toned arms beneath. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes at my fascination with his pixie like appearance. The jet black hair was a nice cherry on top.

"Welcome, everybody. I'll get it out of the way, Professor Hawthorn has fallen ill and won't be back for quite some time. In the meantime, I'm taking over her curriculum and am here to show you all how to get really, _really_ good at algebra." He stood at his desk, arms crossed. He got a few chuckles from the crowd. "Good. I'm Professor Way, or you can call me Gerard, I do not entirely _care_ ," he drew his words out as he surveyed the class, "it seems pretty formal to call me professor seeing as half of you look the same age as me."

Some jackass in the middle rows decided to call out a question. "If I'm older than you then why should you be my teacher?"

"Well, sir, it looks like I'm smarter than you, otherwise we wouldn't be in this mess, would we?" Gerard flashed a quick grimace before opening his laptop. "Today, we're going to talk about the dangers of smoking and why you should quit."

That class was a nightmare. Everytime he opened his mouth to say something, I half expected some shitty call out or ridicule on my behalf. But it didn't happen. Instead, he passive aggressively showed me just how much of an asshole he was. Needless to say, I was somewhat grateful because some of the kids in those class, and I do mean _kids_ , needed to have their ass handed to them by the Professor of Sass.

Jessica ran off because she had some sort of meeting, so I was left to clean up my workstation by myself. I hurried, not wanting to be the last person left in the classroom, but by the time I was done, I looked up and realized Gerard had already left. I breathed a sigh of relief and was filling my head with thoughts of lunch when I left.

I began to think that maybe I actually should quit smoking. Not only would it cut down probably in half the amount of strangers and homeless people asking me for free cigarettes, I wouldn't run the risk of having to cut a hole in my neck when I was old and in a nursing home. I shuddered at the mental image. Not that I thought I would live that long anyway. Looking out at the courtyard in front of the food hall, I realized it was only a matter of time before I snapped and filled my bathtub up with the blood from my wrists.

As I was locked in my suicidal daydream, thinking of all the things I couldn't wait to leave behind in this world when I finally got the guts to kill myself, someone began tapping my shoulder. I spun around, feeling oddly embarrassed at the fact that I was in a fantasy world where everything was dead.

Suddenly, though I didn't think it possible, I wished I was even more dead.

"What?" I snapped at him, looking up into his hazel eyes. His sparkling, ebony rimmed eyes. _Snap out of it, Charlotte!_

"Pleasant, aren't you?" Gerard quipped, before sighing. "Thank you for the cigarette this morning."

"Sure you're not going to report me?" I half smirked. Shit, was I flirting?

"Not unless I catch you again," he said, cocking one eyebrow.

"Unlikely to happen, 'cuz that was my last one and my friend wants me to quit." I shrugged, trying to get my bag strap further up on my arm. He regarded me coolly before putting a cigarette in between his own lips.

"What a drag."

He stared down at me for a while before I finally had to ask, "Well, are you going to light that?"

"Not here, because I'm a respectable professor that doesn't smoke in no-smoke zones," he turned on his heel and was about to walk away, but he glanced over his shoulder at me, slowly dangling another cigarette from his fingertips in my direction. My eyes widened. Jessica wouldn't care if I had one.

I trotted after him, stuffing my hands into my pockets. He had whipped the cigarette out of my reach and started walking to the side of campus where we had some unsightly portable buildings. There was an alcove in between those and the parking structure, surrounding on one side by a cement wall and the other with a chain link fence. Gerard leaned up against the wall, finally lighting his cigarette. He held the other one out to me.

"Do you want it?" He said, his words muffled by his cigarette.

"Sure." I held out my hand, but he didn't drop the cigarette in it. Instead, he strode over to me, took the cigarette out from between his lips, and slowly pushed it in between mine. I froze, feeling the slightly wet filter in between my lips. I tasted a hint of cherry chapstick and smirked.

"Thanks." I muttered, not entirely sure how to react. But my insides were kind of...a little bit...on fire. Or something like that.

"Don't mention it," he said, putting another in between his lips before leaning in to use the cherry on mine to light his own. _Oh no_. I leaned against the wall.

"So how old are you? Are you really qualified to be teaching at a college level and hitting on girls that just turned twenty-one?" I said.

"It could be worse, you could have said you just turned eighteen," he said, blowing a cloud of smoke above my head. "And I'm not hitting on you," he added flatly.

"Good. Because if you were, that would be breaking some rule somewhere," I muttered.

"Quite the contrary, that's usually only a problem when you teach high school. We're adults now," he trailed off. "What's your name?"

"Charlotte. I would ask yours but you made it apparent in class today. How long are you going to be teaching my class?"

"Why? Hate me already?" He rolled his cigarette between his fingers thoughtfully, glaring up at me over it.

"Yep, have to say that I do."


	2. Chapter 2

The next few weeks in Gerard's class were a mixture of annoyance, purposefully breaking rules to piss him off, and an incredible amount of sexual tension. Jessica made sure that I knew of every instance he could be caught looking at me.

"Cool," I said to her for the umpteenth time that day.

"Have you guys hooked up?" Jessica asked excitedly, leaning over onto my desk.

" _No_. He's insufferable. He always tells me I'm doing something wrong and then goes out of his way to talk to me after class." I didn't look up at her from my notes, but I could feel her disbelief wafting through the air.

"Charlie, honey, I know you haven't dated a lot of guys," she began sarcastically, "but that means he's trying to find an excuse to spend time with you. It's pretty obvious to me he has a thing for you, but whatever, girl. Just let that poor pixie man waste away." She turned back to her own desk, scribbling something down.

As if on cue, Gerard stood up and announced class was over and for everybody to "get the hell out." When he spoke to the class, he spoke with a light and joking tone so as to not convey the contempt and fucking assholery I knew he had inside. I escaped class with Jessica that day, thrilled that it was Friday. I had a long weekend of relaxing at home, not getting dressed, and doing absolutely nothing.

"Hey, do you maybe want to come over later?" I asked Jessica as we made our way to the market for lunch. She scrunched up her face in thought.

"Maybe. There's supposed to be a house party at Delta House tonight, and some of my friends wanted me to go, but I'm not sure if I will yet." I nodded. No problem, I'd just stay in tonight.

Hours later, and I sat alone in my apartment. It was almost three in the morning. My phone wasn't lighting up with messages anymore. I was truly alone.

It was nights like these that I began to ponder everything. The world seemed so loud and I was a tiny voice, trying to get people to either listen to me or be quiet. I wandered to the kitchen to see if I had some soup to heat up, because comfort food was what I needed at that moment. Something to fill my belly with feelings of contentedness, not anxiety.

I passed my nightstand, rattling my pill bottle just to be sure that I didn't have any xanax left. I didn't know what I had been expecting-to have been visited by the xanax fairy in the middle of the night, maybe-but my hopes were dashed when the bottle didn't rattle back. If I was going to sleep, I had to make a run to the 7-11 on the corner.

Instead of making soup, I put on a jacket and some boots over my pajamas before locking up my apartment and walking down the street. I was sure that I looked like a mess, but I wasn't in any state to be caring. Insomnia makes everything a little toned down. You don't notice everything, some things you can't hear at all. It's like you're reaching for things that you can never fully grasp because they're right out of range. You can't see them, but you know they're there.

And sometimes, that's even scarier.

I bought a bottle of sleeping pills and a four dollar bottle of wine. If I ended up still not being able to sleep from the pills, I'd just down the bottle and call it a night. I was giving the cashier my ID when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Charlotte?" They said, in disbelief. My heart both sunk and did somersaults at the same time as I turned around and was face to face with my most recent ex-boyfriend. Looking into his face, it was as if I had just ran into him yesterday. He was beaming. "Oh my god, how _are_ you?"

I grimaced, motioning to the things that I was buying. "The same, as you can see. How are you doing, Anthony?" I was genuinely happy to see him. Also a bit frightened.

"Oh, man, am I doing great. I'm on set to finish my degree, I've got a solid job and I've been hitting the gym everyday, so no time to do much else in between!" He grinned, straightening his arms so I could see _just how strong_ he was. Internally I groaned, but I had to hand it to him, he was still kind of attractive.

"Nice," I said, paying the cashier and leaned against the door. "Well, I'm going to get lost, but it was good seeing you."

"Yeah, and Charlotte? If you'd ever want to get a cup of coffee to catch up, I'd really like that," Anthony said. My heart fluttered in my chest.

"Uh, sure, I would be down for that." My breathing was shallow and a feeling of...euphoria? was flooding through me. This was the boy that had broken my heart. That had walked away and left me dying. I hadn't heard from him in three months and then this chance encounter.

"Tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

"Sure. See you later," I stepped back out into the night, not sure if I instantly regretted what I did or not.

That morning I sat out on my patio bundled up, listening to music and smoking. The sleeping pills hadn't done anything, and I was too alone with my thoughts to even consider beginning to relax. Anthony was...something else.

He had been my high school sweetheart gone sour. My first real heartbreak, something I had not completely recovered from, simply pushed further from my mind. He had poisoned me from the inside out, and I hadn't been able to completely trust a guy since. My family had fought to get me away from him, out of our small town and into the big city to the university. And I was actually going to get coffee with him tomorrow?

The last time we had seen each other it had ended in screaming and slammed doors. Would this time be any different?

I took a large gulp from the bottle of rosé wine and noted, no, probably not.


	3. Chapter 3

Anthony and I had gone out the next day and I wasn't sure how I was feeling about it. It was nice to not be thinking about my overly attractive art professor. He had been in the forefront of my mind for the past few weeks ever since the start of term, and I was starting to get annoyed by myself what with the stolen glances and burning looks during class.

Things had been going well with Anthony, and I was beginning to feel so hopeful. It felt nice to feel something like love again, when I had been sitting inside my apartment cold and unfeeling for so many nights. About a week after our first "date", Anthony spent the night at my house after a long Friday night of bar hopping. We collapsed in a giggling heap on my bed, him pinning me down with my shoulders. I wasn't surprised I had only lasted a week against our sexual tension; it was notorious.

As he nuzzled my neck with his teeth, my toes curled and I was in heaven. It felt so good to be loved again, I was drunk off it. And all of the shots we had thrown back a few hours prior. Nonetheless, something in my chest was feeling whole.

We were both tired so we didn't last too long. He left in a hurry afterwards after realizing how long we had been going at it. He said he had a class in the morning. I laid in bed after he left, a wet spot still where his sweaty body had laid a few moments ago. The smell of his cologne wafted from the sheets, and I sighed heavily into my pillow. If this was what I wanted, why didn't I feel better? There was something heavy in my chest weighing me down, but I couldn't put a finger on it.

I woke up the next day with weights for eyelids. The drive to campus was a blur. Everything was a blur. Mostly because I hadn't gotten my new glasses yet. I pulled into a parking spot easily; maybe I had just arrived here earlier than...literally anybody else?

I frowned as I got out of my car, my door slamming loudly behind me and echoing off the empty asphalt. My first class of the day was art, so I sucked it up and trudged to Gerard's class. I wrenched open the door, almost dropping my book bag in surprise.

The entire classroom was empty, except Gerard. Music was blasting through the roof, the metal plates from the screen printing class rattling against their shelves. The thick smell of oil paint hung heavy in the air, stinging my nostrils. Gerard was another story, though.

He was currently sliding across the front of the classroom wildly waving around a paintbrush coated in red paint. A heavy black robe hung off his shoulders and he was belting the words out at the top of his lungs.

At this sight, I actually did drop my book bag as the door closed heavily behind me. Gerard jumped feet into the air, dropping his paintbrush onto the canvas beneath him.

"Oh my God, have you heard of knocking?" He shouted, a deep crimson red bleeding out from beneath his cheeks and spreading over his whole face. He hastily tied the black plush robe around him, his black boxers peeking out from underneath.

"What the fuck is this? I'm showing up for class!" I shouted back, throwing my hands out to my sides in exasperation. "I literally dragged my hungover ass out of bed to be here and I'm greeted with your pasty white ass?"

I found it difficult to breathe, as my heart beat was racing. Seeing someone's sculpted pecs shouldn't affect me like this. "It's the first day of Thanksgiving break, Miss Payn."

Gerard was still frozen as he said those words, staring at me, the paintbrush still dangling dangerously in the air. He blinked at me a few times, and I blinked back. And then we both burst out into uninterruptable peals of laughter. As if I hadn't already lost my breath, I couldn't breathe. Tears were forming at the corner of my eyes. Gerard was hooting, having long since dropped the paintbrush onto the floor. Eventually, we both collected ourselves.

"Well, fuck me. I had no idea. Nobody told me! My family didn't even call me to see if I was coming home! What the hell is this?" I said, slowly falling down from the high I had moments before to a sudden, crippling hole in my chest. Did my family not even care? It seemed like everybody would have forgotten about me if I wasn't there.

New tears were forming at the corners of my eyes, and this time not from laughter. I leaned against one of the drawing tables, my breathing become shallow and irregular.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Gerard rushed over to me. "Do you need water? Is something wrong?" The concern in his voice was something new to me, and my sadness was momentarily interrupted by surprise and me taking a step back.

"No," was all I could say before I launched into hysterical tears. I wanted to shrink and hide under one of the angled drawing tables. This was so embarrassing. A box of tissues was thrusted under my nose. I gathered myself together for a few moments to try to choke some words out. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I'll let you get back to your painting." I began to walk out of the classroom when Gerard spoke.

"If you think I'm going to send a hysterical, obviously emotionally distressed woman back out there with no offer to be of help, you're sorely mistaken." He caught my elbow, guiding me up to his desk and into his chair. "Sit."

Tears were silently streaming down my face at this point. I dabbed at them with one of the tissues, painfully aware of how my makeup must be running. After I had calmed down a little, I just stared down at the bunched up tissues in my hand under his desk. Beads of sweat were dangling off my forehead.

"Why is it so hot in here?" I croaked out before shrugging off my jacket. Gerard's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"I like to parade around in my underwear working on some pieces, I don't exactly like to freeze in November when I do so," he smirked. I giggled.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I couldn't help but ask. He considered this question for a second, crossing his arms as he perched on the corner of his desk.

"I'm just trying to be a decent human being. Why are you crying in my classroom on the first day of break?" He retorted.

I also had to ponder the answer to this question. I wasn't exactly sure. "A lot of things. I had a somewhat shitty night last night, and now I know my family doesn't care about me. And I just had an emotional breakdown in front of my professor, which wouldn't have happened if somebody had told me it was break today."

"I'm sure somebody, somewhere or somehow, did tell you it was break. It's kind of been all over the school. That aside," he added quickly when I became visibly annoyed, "I'm sorry to hear you had a shitty night. Can I ask what happened?" He was eyeing me delicately, which worried me.

My heart plummeted as I realized in taking off my jacket, I had revealed the dozens of hickies Anthony had left all over me last night. I scrambled for it, but he cut me off, sensing my panic.

"No point in sweating like a pig since the damage is already done. Not like I've never seen or gotten any of those before in my life. We're both adults here. I only asked because I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said quietly. I wanted to shake my head in disbelief, but those words did come out of his mouth.

"Why would you care? Honestly, real question. I do try to be an asshole to you most of the time but I'm not right now," I admitted.

"Someone crying hysterically and being covered in bruises? It would be shitty of me to not make sure they were fine. It's part of my job; make sure you crazy kids don't beat each other to a pulp and people who need to be reported get reported."

"OH. Oh, no, no, it was nothing like that. It was very consensual," I cringed as I spoke these words to him. My professor. Whom I found very attractive. "But thank you?" He just nodded, eyes trailing up my neck. I pretended to not notice. "What are you doing here on break? Shouldn't you be at home with your family?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "I would love to, but I don't have much family at home, let alone family in a respectable distance. They're all mostly in New Jersey, but my brother is a musician out on the road right now. My parents have their own families now. So it's just me. I use this space the way it's supposed to be used when there are no students wasting it away."

I had two thoughts. First, he didn't have a girlfriend. Second, did he think I wasted space in this class? New third thought, why did it matter to me so much? Pushed it to the back of my mind with all of my other unpleasant thoughts.

"I just can't believe my family didn't reach out to me," I said numbly to nobody in particular. Gerard let out a low sigh.

"It's not exactly late in the week. You have what, three days? You could easily travel back home by then," he said, getting up from his desk to put on a tee shirt. I watched his back muscles stretch before he pulled it snugly down, quickly looking away when he turned around. "Sorry, I suppose I need to make myself presentable." He fished out a pair of jeans from under his desk, scooting my legs to the side.

"I don't have the money to travel right now anyway, so it's probably a good thing," I said, burning a hole into the ground so as to not look at him while he was putting pants on. I hadn't noticed how quiet it was in the classroom; he must have turned the music off when I had walked in on him. He walked back to the front of his desk, zipping up a jacket. "I'll get out of your hair. Thank you for the tissues."

"Have you eaten breakfast?" He said, stooping down to grab a backpack with sketchbooks and paintbrushes sticking out of the zipper. He tossed a tarp on top of the painting he had on the ground. The question took me aback.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you look hungover as all fuck, and I'm going to get breakfast now. Do you want to come?" Gerard stated coolly. My cheeks flushed.

"I think I'm okay. I don't want to intrude." I stuttered, picking up my own sketchbooks. His eyes darted from the books I was holding to my face.

"What the hell would you be intruding on? It's just me. Truth be told, I feel bad kicking you out of my room so abruptly and since it seems we're the only people on this campus, we can at least take advantage of that and not deal with ungodly lines at the market." He grabbed some papers from his desk, nodding towards the door. I zipped my own jacket up and filed out the door, waiting for him to lock it before we walked across campus.

"So how long have you been teaching?" I asked, trying to make some form of small talk with him.

"About five years. I know," he glanced at me sideways, "didn't expect that answer, did you? You thought I was a kid just out of grad school, huh?"

"I think everybody does," I said, slightly shocked. He chuckled.

"I'm going to be twenty-nine. I don't think anybody in that class actually is older than me. I just like to make them feel small sometimes," he confided. It was my turn to chuckle.

"Well, you succeeded." I looked down at my shoes as we walked. I felt so out of place, being oddly friendly with him. Maybe I had been wrong to assume he was an asshole.

"It's always scary coming in to take over for a class. A lot of people are attached to the teacher you're replacing and they hate you before even meeting you. So I try to make it fun to change their minds," Gerard explained. I nodded.

"Makes sense. I'd never be able to do what you do."

"Well, what do you want to do?" He asked as he held the door open to the market for me. I fished out my school ID, looking around; he had assumed right, it was nearly deserted. We piled up on waffles and fruit and coffee before finding a place out on the patio to eat.

"I don't know. For a long time I wanted to go into psychology, then I wanted to go into photography. I'm just kind of floating around right now, and it's terrifying. I'll know soon; I have to decide before the end of this semester," I said, my heart sinking at my own words. Gerard raised his eyebrows as he scraped the food off his fork.

"That sucks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes, which I was more than okay with. Normally Jessica would chit-chat at me constantly with me only chiming in to agree with her or tell her what a bitch that bitch was being. This was different, and this was nice. The fountain down the stairs from the patio tinkled quietly in the distance, and the storm clouds were clearing up. Every now and then I glanced at Gerard; he had pulled some of his sketchbooks out and was going over them with scrutinizing eyes.

"You're great at drawing," I noted. He flicked his wrist lazily in my direction. "I mean, I get that's why you're our professor. That was stupid." He stopped boring into his book and looked me in the eyes.

"That wasn't stupid. Don't call things you say stupid. You're a bright kid and don't need that negativity," Gerard grunted. I sat there in surprise for a few moments before continuing my meal. "Sorry if that was weird. It's just something my brother taught me that I've become to believe firmly. The world is constantly trying to convince you that you aren't good enough, so you don't need to play into that."

I stabbed a piece of pineapple with my fork as some birds flew into the courtyard, providing incessant background noise for our somewhat awkward conversation, at least for me. Gerard was working furiously on something in his work, and I felt like an awkward brown noser for having breakfast with a professor.

A few minutes later, and Gerard thrusted a paper into my hands. "The lighting was perfect on your cheeks. I had to." It was a drawing of me, delicately assessing the stack of pancakes that I had over encumbered my plate with. I let out a small giggle, glancing up at him to find warmness in his eyes before gazing back at the paper.

"This is great. Nobody's ever drawn me before. Do you want it back?" I asked shyly. He shook his head curtly, standing up and stretching.

"I have to run and do some errands before the stores get any crazier than they probably already are," he said dejectedly. He grabbed his backpack but abruptly set it back down when he seemed to remember something. "Oh, and one more thing," he fished into his pockets, handing me a business card. "I hate to think of you spending all week alone, and I'm not trying to come off the wrong way here, but that's my cell phone if you need me."

I took it, nodding. "Thanks. Here," I grabbed a pen from my bag and a crumpled napkin from breakfast to scribble my own number on and handed it to him, "I just realized you probably have no need for this, but it just seemed appropriate I guess? I don't know, I'm rather hungover right now. But that's mine."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he folded it up and placed it in his backpack. "Hang in there," he said, giving me a rough pat on the back as he walked off behind me. I sat in the courtyard for a few more minutes, until the sun went away behind the clouds. That had to have been the most pleasant breakfast I'd had with someone in a long time.

And that horrified me.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard's business card burned a hole in my jacket pocket all day. I had no reason to message him; I would have been an annoyance. But as I wandered around the deserted campus, I couldn't help but feel the cravings for some human company. After about an hour of sitting in various spots normally crowded with jocks and sorority sisters and enjoying my freedom to smoke, I began the walk back to my car, dialing my mom as I went.

To my surprise, she picked up on the second ring. "Hey mom, it's Charlotte. I was just wondering what your plans for Thanksgiving were," I said.

"Charlotte! I'm sorry, I've been meaning to call you, but every time I pick up the phone something happens, you know? So busy!" She said, her voice trailing off. "We're having a really quiet Thanksgiving this year and didn't want to have you pay for a train ticket or drive all the way down here to LA."

"I would have been fine with it," I said. "I miss you guys."

"I miss you too. Jordin says hi. He's hopefully going to be making varsity track this year! Winter track starts up soon for him," she sung after I heard my younger brother's muffled voice in the background.

"Well that's cool. Tell him to text me sometime, I miss him," I admitted, nearing my car. "Anyway mom, I have to drive, but I love you, and I'll see you at Christmas for sure."

"Alright baby. I love you too! Book your ticket soon!" She said before hanging up. I stood outside of my car for a few moments more, my chest suddenly feeling very heavy. I felt it moving with every pound of my heart, making me feel lighthead. I either needed to quit smoking or start running again. As I sat down in my driver's seat, I noticed a piece of paper folded up under my windshield wiper blade.

Groaning, I got back out of my car and snatched it, unfolding it when I was sitting back down again. It was another drawing of me, sitting on the drainage pipe out back by the gymnasium and smoking a cigarette, exactly what I had been doing about a half hour ago. It was one of my favorite spots in the school to sit on because it was right on the side of a hill, and I could see out almost to the ocean from it. Gerard's signature, GW, was in the bottom right corner, along with a message in scrawled handwriting along the bottom.

"Smoking will kill you but at least you look cool."

I folded it back up, a sad smile on my face. Maybe if I stayed on the campus I would come back to a car filled with drawings of my various dramatic smoking poses. I inwardly laughed at the thought before I willed my engine to life and drove back home.

I ended up changing back into pajamas and sleeping for a good few hours, only woken up by my phone vibrating on my hardwood nightstand. I missed the phone calls, but I had four unread texts from Anthony, each with increasing urgency as to wondering why I wasn't picking up my phone, was I ignoring him? I was being a real bitch, apparently.

In the daylight, hooking up with him last night was an incredibly bad lapse of judgement on my behalf. I couldn't do this again. And last night made it painfully obvious how very different the two things we were looking for were. I dialed his number, my breathing becoming shallow. He snapped at me when he answered the call. "Now you finally call me."

"I'm sorry, I was sleeping," I muttered. I took a deep breath to garner some courage. "I can't go out with you tonight. I know we had plans, but I can't go out with you again. I'm sorry." I hung up before he could get another word in, a giant weight lifted off my chest. My phone began to buzz, ringing off the hook with texts peppered in between the missed calls. I'd be lying if I said a part of me didn't want to pick it up and apologize and say it was a joke and of course I wanted to see him and would he come over and cuddle with me right now?

Instead I leaned back onto my pillows, a tear streaming down my face. Anthony wasn't healthy for me. I tried to avoid thinking about it, but breakfast with Gerard was something that catalysed this. Gerard had been so...genuine. There was something comfortable in the silence we shared even though I was an anxious bundle of nerves sitting across from him. And then there were the drawings. I rolled over to fish around in my bag for them, gazing at them again.

The angles on my face were so sharp; he made me look so elegant. I looked in this drawing how I wish I looked in real life. Regal, killer. A cigarette dangling from my lips, my sunglasses pushed down to the end of my nose. I looked beautiful.

I wondered if this was how I looked to him.

Setting the drawings down and rolling to my other side, I caught a glimpse at my reflection in the mirror. If only my cheeks were a little thinner, my bangs a little longer, my skin a little clearer...if only I could get rid of this pooch of fat underneath my belly button. Maybe then I could look as stunning as Gerard seemed to think I was.

I caught myself, confused at my own thoughts. I was assuming he thought I was attractive. Slowly spinning around, my eyes on my reflection, I wished he did.

I cleaned around the apartment, biding my time and ignoring my phone. Eventually, the calls ceased and I erased the history, the unheard voicemails, the texts calling me a bitch with more capital letters each time. Deleted. After I added Anthony's number to my blocked list, I stared at my phone in a daze. It wouldn't be weird if I texted Gerard and just thanked him for the other drawing.

I, of course, couldn't just say that.

 **To Gerard, 2:14 PM**

 **Some asshole left a Chinese takeout menu on my car this morning.**

After I sent it, I began to panic. Maybe I shouldn't have been sarcastic. What if I offended him about not being more grateful for his drawing? Before I set my phone down on the counter in order to stop myself from throwing it off the balcony, it lit up with a response from him.

 **From Gerard, 2:14 PM**

 **Is it at least quality Chinese food?**

A wave of relief rushed over me and I caught myself smiling at my phone like an idiot, causing me to pause and wonder when the last time I had done that was.

 **To Gerard, 2:16 PM**

 **Very quality. I thank the man who left it on my car.**

 **From Gerard, 2:17 PM**

 **The man appreciated your company this morning.**

Butterflies were flitting about in my stomach, making it churn and burn...in a good way? I couldn't believe this guy, this person who I thought was a complete asshole before this morning, was telling me he appreciated my company after drawing me twice in one morning? Nobody had ever drawn me before. I was trying to think of something to say when my phone buzzed again.

 **From Gerard, 2:21 PM**

 **He also hopes it wasn't awkward for you.**

 **To Gerard, 2:22 PM**

 **I hoped it wasn't awkward for him, I am the one that walked in on him in his underwear and began to cry.**

 **To Gerard, 2:23 PM**

 **Which I feel like is not a reaction most men want.**

This was adorable. I had half of a mind to ask him if he would want to get breakfast again sometime, but I wasn't going to push it. I just couldn't shake the feeling of being so connected to someone like I felt with him this morning. Which was probably just my hormones and the fact that he comforted me when I felt like shit. Stupid biological tendencies, making me attracted to people who I felt protected by.

 **From Gerard, 2:25 PM**

 **You have to at least get one of those in your lifetime, I'm glad mine is out of the way**

I didn't reply to him because I wasn't sure I'd be able to communicate with him a second longer lest I burst into flames of desire and infatuation. He was my professor, for crying out loud. There was probably something against it in the university's policies somewhere, even if we both were consenting adults. Nothing could happen, because it would count as an abuse of his authority and could cost him his job.

I did everything I could to busy myself that day. Besides cleaning the whole apartment, I actually went grocery shopping, then stopped by the campus gym later in the evening to work out all of the anxiety Gerard was causing me. Jess laughed and laughed at me over the phone for not realizing it was break today, but I guess that's what happens when you live off campus and not in a dorm; you don't realize when nobody's around because you're not around students.

I settled onto the couch after quite a productive day, wishing I had a dog to cuddle with, but both of mine were back home in Los Angeles. Jess called me again later to tell me that she had somebody she wanted to set me up on a date with the week classes resumed, so that boosted my ego a bit. But nothing boosted me like the text I got after Jessica and I hung up.

 **From Gerard, 7:48 PM**

 **Breakfast again tomorrow?**

I stared at my phone for a few minutes in disbelief, then remembered I already hadn't texted him back from earlier so I was being rather rude.

 **To Gerard, 7:51 PM**

 **You betcha. Market again?**

 **From Gerard, 7:51 PM**

 **I'll be there around ten.**

 **To Gerard, 7:53 PM**

 **I'll meet you there if I can get my ass out of bed**

 **From Gerard, 7:54**

 **You better, I want to draw you more.**

 _Shit._


	5. Chapter 5

I think the only reason I was up early was because I was so exhausted from all of the stress from the day before and incredibly anxious about seeing Gerard again for breakfast. I played over and over in my head how I thought it was going to pan out. He wasn't going to like talking to me anymore now that we hadn't had an awkward interaction before to break the ice. He was going to look at me and think, Wow, I can't believe I drew her yesterday, she's hideous. Or maybe he wasn't even going to show up.

My fears were proven wrong when I walked onto campus at exactly ten in the morning. After I had passed rows and rows of buildings, the second story balcony patio outside of the market came into view, and I spotted a familiar shock of pitch blackness against the normally colorful scenery. He rose to his feet as I ascended the steps.

"Right on time," I said, "or have you been waiting?"

He shrugged and shook his head slightly, "not really. It was a beautiful day and I was up early." I looked up at the sky. It was completely overcast, causing me to give him a questioning look. "Clouds are beautiful. I like it best when it's cloudy."

After we had gotten our breakfast and been informed the market would close later that day until the following Monday when class resumes, we sat back out on the windy balcony. The clouds were getting darker now. We shot the shit about your usual conversation subjects; how both of us hoped it was going to rain, how neither of us were looking forward to having to go back to having classes, and how much nicer the school was without everybody around.

"I do enjoy teaching though. You get to meet a lot of cool people, which is neat. It gives me a purpose, I think," Gerard said after taking a sip of his coffee, looking down at his nearly empty cup with too much sadness.

"Your teaching style is interesting. There's tons of professors out there who try to be cool and hip with the kids. Maybe it helps that you're only twelve," I said over my own coffee. He wrinkled his nose despite his smile.

"Your learning style is interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean," he said, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky again. "I really hope it rains."

"You've said that. I want it to rain, too, but it needs to wait until I'm back indoors." I gestured to the light cardigan I was wearing, Gerard's eyes raking my torso. My cheeks burned.

"What have you got going on the rest of the day? Not going to visit family, I presume?" He asked. I shook my head.

"I talked to my mom yesterday and I'm just going to be staying here for the rest of the week. And the weeks after that. Obviously."

"Obviously."

There was a small pause before I got the guts to continue the conversation. "What are you going to be doing?"

"I have commissions I'm supposed to be working on, and some of my pieces are going to be featured in an exhibit downtown Friday so I need to make sure everything is squared away with that," he said casually, as if it were no big deal. I'd never had any of my art featured anywhere before. "Leave it to me to wait until three days before the opening."

"That's awesome! Where are they going to be on display?" I tried to contain my admiration, but had the feeling I was failing miserably. He gave me an interesting little smile before explaining.

"It's nothing big. Just a local exhibit at Black Bean Brewery, a coffee shop-"

"Oh yeah! I know that place. Damn, that's a nice coffee shop, that's really awesome for you," I said. I wish my art would get put on display somewhere.

"It'll be fun. Do you want to go to the opening with me?" He asked, sounding a bit wary. Had I heard him right?

"Go with you?" I asked, slightly incredulous.

He let out a small giggle. "Uh, yeah. If it's weird that's fine, I just figured I would extend the invitation since you seemed to like the coffee shop."

"No, I would really love to go. I'd definitely be down," I said quickly, before he had the chance to change his mind once he realized how much of a loser I really was.

"Great. Can I pick you up at five? Like I said, it's not until Friday." Gerard played with the bits of pancakes left on his plate. I hoped I wasn't making him feel too awkward.

"Yeah, I'll be around then," I smiled over my last sip of coffee. Just then, Gerard's phone began to ring. He was about to dismiss it when he took a second glance at the screen before sighing, standing up from the table.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this real quick, I'll be right back," he said as he picked up the call, trotting down the steps to pace through the long courtyard in front of the market. The leaves on the trees that dotted the gravel path were turning a bright tangerine color, and some were already drifting to the ground, dancing on the wind on their way down. A few had gotten caught in the fountain that laid at the very end of the path.

I decided that, since there wasn't really anybody around, I could smoke on the patio. I lit up a cigarette, my lighter flicking to life in a shower of sparks. As a drew in a deep breath, the smoke burning the back of my lungs, I saw Gerard look up from one of the many benches that lined the path, a smirk on his lips as he shook his head 'no' at me. I did a comical, exaggerated shrug, flicking my cigarette ash into the air. His shoulders shook with a silent laugh. I wondered if that was a girl he was talking to. Then I wondered why I cared.

About five minutes later he returned to his seat across from me at the metal table. "Sorry about that," he began apologetically, "it was an old friend of mine. He's in the process of moving apartments right now and has just ultimately tied up the rest of the break by roping me up to help him."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. So it had been a guy. Then a new horror struck me; was he gay?

"Don't sweat it. If you need any other help, I drive a truck. Granted it's a Ranger so it's more car than truck, but it gets the job done," I said, immediately regretting my choice. Why would he want me to help? I was coming off desperate, but there was a small truth in that; I was desperate to be around him, to feed off this spark within Gerard that just brought out my own creativity and positivity. He was captivating and bringing such extra anxiety into my days.

"That would actually be amazing, if you're being serious. Frank has a lot of shit; it's a wonder how he managed to get it all packed up," Gerard raised his eyebrows in question to me. I nodded.

And that was how I filled up all of my days for Thanksgiving break. Gerard texted me Frank's address after sheepishly asking me if I was free for the day. Of course I was, I had told him. I didn't have a life. Any excuse to be around you and breathe in your intoxicating vibe, I had added internally.

I barely knew Gerard, so I was incredibly nervous to meet one of his friends. But Frank was the most personable person I had ever met. He wrapped me in a hug, loudly stating how "fucking stoked" he was that I had offered to help. Frank was a bubble of pure energy, almost too bright to look at when he got excited about something. He was covered in tattoos, and I thought that was incredible. Maybe shaggy black hair just ran in the friend group, I thought to myself.

After working for a few hours, we sat down around a fire pit on his back patio. All of us had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"So where are you moving to?" I asked Frank.

"Not too far from here at all, actually. Into the Suncrest Apartment building about a mile from campus. It's just easier to have an apartment than a house right now. I don't need all this fucking space," Frank grinned, gesturing vaguely to the area around him.

"Oh! That's the apartment building I live in. They're nice apartments, you'll like it. Are you going to school?" I said. Frank and Gerard both erupted into peals of laughter, and I glanced back and forth between them. Frank laughed with his head thrown back, his hair shaking. Gerard scrunched up his nose and eyes, curling over at the waist.

"God no. I'm actually going to be teaching there, thanks to my buddy Gerard for the sick hookup," he said, elbowing Gerard's arm, knocking his cigarette out of his hand. "I'm going to teach music composition and theory. I know, I look like I'm twelve."

"It's because he's so short," Gerard said quickly, ducking to avoid the empty beer can Frank had hurtled in his direction. "I ain't picking that up."

"Well, that's cool." I said after I had finished laughing at the spectacle. Frank muttered something about getting another beer and shuffled back inside, leaving Gerard and me by the fire outside.

"This isn't too awkward for you, is it?" He asked quietly, suddenly serious. I smiled and shook me head.

"No, it's nice to do something instead of being holed up inside my apartment. It's basically all I've been doing since the breakup," I said before realizing I was complaining about my life to my professor. Whoops. Gerard looked concerned, setting his beer down before leaning forward in his chair.

"Shit, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you doing okay?" He asked. I was about to reply but Frank had reentered the patio, three beers in his arms.

"Here's an extra thank you for helping me move some of my shit today," Frank said as he pushed a can in my direction. I was barely halfway done with my first one, but I took it anyway.

"Damn, you guys need to wait for me to catch up with my drinks," I joked. Gerard comically rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry Charlotte, I didn't realize you were a fucking lightweight," Frank said with faux bitterness. I liked him, I decided. He made me feel like we had been friends for years when this was really the first time I had ever met him in my life. He had a way of putting me at ease, which was an amazing feat in itself.

"I'm actually a huge heavyweight. Give me three bottles of wine and I'll start to feel it, maybe," I said nonchalantly, despite the grin on my face. Frank formed an O with his mouth, shaking his head in sarcastic disbelief.

"Oh really? Well it just so happens that I have three bottles of wine in my nearly packed up kitchen!" Frank jumped to his feet but Gerard grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back down into his seat.

"No, we don't need to turn this into a dick measuring contest, Frank," he said, locking eyes with me before quickly shaking his head with a warning glance.

"Come on, it's not like it's a school night, Mr. Way," I said, sticking my tongue out at him. It was hard to tell in the low light of the setting sun and the flickering of the fire pit, but I swear I watched his cheeks slowly burn.

Frank took his cue and went into the kitchen again. Gerard sat there, glowering at me. "Have you eaten enough today?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Kind of. Why?"

"I just don't want you to get sick. You just seem like you don't remember to eat lunch," he admitted. I choked out a small laugh.

"You wouldn't be wrong."

Frank came back outside with three wine glasses and three bottles of wine, tucked under his arm. "Alright, bitches, let's get this going. What sort of drinking games do college kids play these days? Truth or dare? Nah, there's too few of us," he chuckled to himself as he poured me a full glass. When he offered one to Gerard, Gerard simply pushed it back.

"I'm done for tonight, thanks Frankie," he stood up, stretching his legs and lighting another cigarette. Frank turned back to me.

"Guess it's just you and me, kid. Let's do this!" We clinked glasses together.

"Animals," Gerard muttered with the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

I felt like a bobblehead. Or a set of hi-hat cymbals. Or the inside of a bass drum. I was lying facedown on my couch still in my clothes from the night before with a massive migraine. Water. My first thought. I slowly sat up, a glass of water on the coffee table coming into focus. There was a small post-it stuck to it.

 **Drove you home last night, your truck is at Frank's. Drink some water and I will give you a ride to his place when you're ready.**

I recognized Gerard's scrawling handwriting immediately. My heart warmed a little at the thought that somebody cared enough to make sure I got home safely and left me a glass of water, which I promptly drained. I turned some music on and began to wash up, changing into some clean clothes and fixing my makeup. It was already one in the afternoon.

 **To Gerard - 1:17 PM**

 **Wow, thanks for driving me home. I'm beat.**

I felt stupid for having drunk so much the night before, but Frank just had a contagious excitement about him that had intoxicated me. Gerard texted me back almost immediately.

 **From Gerard - 1:18 PM**

 **Of course. Just let me know when you want to get your truck, we're finishing up packing.**

As I was eating toast, I reflected on how I should probably ride my bike over there. After all that alcohol, I could use both the fresh air and the exercise. But fuck it, I was tired.

 **To Gerard - 1:20 PM**

 **Whenever you want to take a break, just cleaning myself up**

 **From Gerard - 1:21 PM**

 **I'll head over within the hour.**

I was sitting on the curb outside of my apartment complex, letting the sun warm me up. A few cigarettes later, and Gerard pulled up in a black Porsche. He rolled the passenger window down.

"Chainsmoke much?" He asked with a smile. I tossed the smoldering butt into the gutter as I gave him a slow nod before climbing in the car.

"Only on Wednesdays," I answered before he sped back off to Frank's house.

"So, how was your night?" Gerard asked through his grin. I pushed my sunglasses further up my nose.

"How do you fucking think my night was? Don't remember a lot of it, if I'm being completely honest."

"We missed you at breakfast this morning. Frank tried to make pancakes; keyword is tried," he snorted.

"I was fast asleep, I think my stomach missed breakfast though," I said as it grumbled at the thought of food.

"We have some leftovers. We're almost completely done. We filled your truck bed all the way up, so we'll need to dump it off first before we can do too much more."

"No problem. I'm feeling better after having some Excedrin," I said. He nodded, pulling up to the curb outside Frank's house. The rest of the day was filled with more shenanigans while helping Frank move. His apartment was on the floor above mine, so fitting everything into the elevator and going continuously up and down was so much fun. Gerard and I were sitting on the last two boxes in the front yard when Frank got a call from the university about his upcoming classes.

"Thanks again for helping us out. Especially since nobody we know owns a truck," Gerard said, blowing smoke into the air.

"No, thanks for letting me. I've had fun the past two days. Feels like I have friends again," I joked, glancing over at him. He was running a hand through his hair nervously. "What's up?"

He hesitated greatly before answering me, shifting on the box so he was completely facing me. "I know this is going to sound weird, but just hear me out. I worry about you. You say depressing stuff like that a lot and I'm more than happy to let you talk to me about your problems, that's not the point. I just wish there was something I could do for you. That's part of the reason why I kept inviting you to breakfast and tried to get you to come over here."

I was a bit taken aback, my cigarette paused in the air between my lips and my arm. "Oh. 'Part' of the reason?" I was getting stupidly hopeful. He just looked up at the heavens as if he was gaining courage from an otherworldy power.

"Yes, part. You're a cool girl and I like hanging out with you. That was the other part. And I really don't want you to be alone over a holiday. It makes me sad," he said honestly, nudging the dirt in the yard with his boot toe.

"Well, thanks," I said awkwardly. "I appreciate it. I like being around you too, now that I know you don't hate me." He perked up, looking at me again.

"You thought I hated you?" Gerard asked, his eyes widening.

"Are you serious? I thought you despised me! And even now, you're probably just making sure I don't blackmail you with the fact that you dance around in your class when students are here," I smirked. He had to let a little chuckle escape at that.

"I thought you hated me. I really liked your art and thought you were pretty and I guess that's it. I'm not worried you're going to blackmail me, because you probably would have done it already," Gerard said confidently.

"You're right. You're also lucky that I'm incredibly lazy." There was a long pause in which we both said nothing. "You like my art?"

"Hell yes I do. I know you might concentrate in photography but your illustration skills are damn spot on, Charlotte. Like, really."

"Coming from you, someone who made me look beautiful sitting on a drainage pipe, that means a lot."

"But you did look beautiful."

I wasn't really sure how to respond to that, so I let my red cheeks do the talking. Gerard fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, not looking up at me after he said that.

"The drainage pipe also looked beautiful that day, so I figured I would kill two birds with one stone and draw you both," he added hastily. I laughed, stomping on my cigarette.

"You're funny. In a weird way I'm glad that Hawthorn left the university, as much as I loved her. You're a very close second," I said. Now it was his turn to laugh.

"What are you crazy kids talking about out here?" Frank interjected, walking up to us.

"Frank, I'm older than you," Gerard stated flatly. Frank just leaned on his shoulder, ruffling his hair with his other hand.

"Check this kid out. Thinks he's smarter than me." Gerard shoved Frank off with a laugh. "So Charlotte, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Ah, nothing really. I'll probably...I don't really know. I have no idea. I can't believe it's tomorrow, I've sort of lost track of this semester," I admitted. Frank giggled.

"Well, you're more than welcome to hang out with me and this loser. We have a tradition of going to Denny's when our families aren't around." Gerard glared at Frank.

"It's honestly the worst tradition I've ever been a part of," Gerard said. "But it's also the best."

"So you should really come with us," Frank interjected. I shrugged.

"Sure. Not like I'll be doing anything else."

Thursday came and went like any other day, really. Frank ordered the smiley face pancakes while Gerard and I, like the respecting adults we were, just had plain short stacks. It was one of the best holidays I had had in such a long time. There were moments when tears were forming in the corners of my eyes from how hard Frank had me laughing.

Before I knew it, it was Friday evening and I was feverishly turning my closet inside out to try and find something to wear to Gerard's gallery opening. I finally decided on a plain black maxi dress and green sweater, hiding my combat boots underneath. It was my way of adding a few inches without having to wear heels so my dress didn't drag on the ground.

The brewery was packed. Gerard valet parked his car, which was the norm downtown, and offered me his arm as we walked inside. It was a high ceiling loft style room with light wood floors and cork walls, normally covered with drawings that coffee goers penned while sipping espresso. But now, they had some permanent installations peppered throughout the cork.

Before we had pulled up, Gerard had asked me to please not hate him when we got inside, and I was racking my mind to try and figure out why. It all became clear to me when we walked up the stairs to the loft. There was a poster sized pastel drawing of me hanging on the wall.

It was beautiful. I couldn't even begin to believe that it was actually me. Chocolate flecks in my cerulean irises, smudged eyeliner from the previous day's alcohol intake, a small smattering of freckles below my eyes, all topped off with my mahogany bob, curling around the bottoms of my ear lobes. I looked like I had lightning in my eyes and a secret on the tip of my tongue. I dropped Gerard's arm as I took it all in.

"This is amazing," I told him. His eyes were flickering in between me and the drawing, trying to gauge my reaction I presumed. He let out a deep breath.

"That's good that you think that. I was worried you would find it creepy," he admitted.

"Oh, well I do, but I really like it," I said, winking at him. His cheeks turned red as he jammed his hands into his pant pockets, and I left him there as I went around the top of the loft, looking at all of his charcoal and oil pastel pieces. They were superb, and to think that he liked my art style. I was incredulous at that.

It was one of the best nights of my life. I was so glad that I had decided to stay for Thanksgiving rather than go home to my dysfunctional yet somehow still intact family. I hung off Gerard's arm all night, my face smoldering when people asked him time and time again if we were dating. Always the same reply every time; _No, we're just friends_. We even got to do a taste testing of a bunch of fancy coffees that I had never heard of before.

We were waiting outside for his car with his jacket draped around my shivering shoulders. He stood stoic next to me, arms crossed over his waistcoat. I loved how he always wore waistcoats.

"I had so much fun tonight," I stuttered in between shakes, "thank you so much for inviting me."

"No, thank you so much for not only coming but being the subject for too many of my pieces," he smirked, glancing over at me under his black hair. I giggled, wondering how many other drawings he had done of me. I didn't care if we were barely friends and if that should be creepy, because I was incredibly flattered. The crowd that was lingering outside the coffee shop was slowly dispersing, one by one, couple by couple.

I was leaning down to get into Gerard's car, scanning the crowd, when I locked eyes with someone in there. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Strong jaw. Curls. Frowning.

Leave it to Anthony to show up and ruin my night.


	7. Chapter 7

The ride back to my apartment was a tense one. Gerard knew something was wrong, but I was hesitant to bring it up lest I turn into a blubbering, traumatized mess. I didn't want to shove my problems off on him. Really, I was afraid he would get annoyed with my baggage and stop talking to me.

We were about halfway back when he turned the radio off. "Maybe if I make it silent enough, you'll feel uncomfortable enough to tell me what's wrong. Are you freaked out about me drawing you? Because I'm starting to feel really bad for that, like a creep-"

"It's nothing to do with you. I just saw somebody tonight I wish I hadn't," I said, trying to keep it simple.

"Was it your ex?" He asked, eyes still on the road.

"Yes," I sighed. Gerard nodded quickly.

"I know that feeling. Sorry about that, I hope it didn't ruin your night."  
"It didn't! I still had so much fun. Really. I just recently stopped talking to him and he scares me," I admitted. Gerard frowned, one corner of his mouth turning down.

"Why does he scare you?"

"He has anger problems and didn't exactly, ah, take it well the other day when I broke it off with him again," I explained, wringing my hands. I felt so awkward.

"Again?" Gerard's eyebrows were raised as he glanced over at me quickly.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly. "I've lost count of how many times we've broken up. It's just a mess all around, take my word for it."

"Juicy," he exhaled. "Well, count me intrigued. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to-"

"Gerard, it was the worst God-awful experience of my life. I was constantly afraid I was doing everything wrong, and that he was going to leave me. I stopped talking to almost of my friends. He isolated me. I don't know if he meant to do it, but I was so alone after we broke up, or rather when he dumped me. I can't even remember...eight times? I thought I was dying for months. And when I finally started to grow into my own person and feel a shadow of happiness he would show up with flowers on my doorstep and begin to tear down every new good thing I had built around myself." Tears were streaming down my face in a constant flow and my chest was heaving, something I hadn't realized while I was ranting. I guess talking without breathing does that to you. "I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize because you feel things. No human should ever make you feel like you need to build walls around yourself to stay safe. People that you fight to keep in your life should only want good things to come to you. Good people will be your walls for you, not a battering ram. He sounds like a complete fuck up. I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said, softly at the end. His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel and I realized I might not have chosen an opportune time to pour out the biggest stressor in my life.

"That's just been why I'm a wreck lately. I didn't used to be like this. I used to be happy, I didn't drink or smoke, I stayed up late because I wanted to finish working on things, not because I couldn't physically sleep because my mind wouldn't turn off. I used to be confident and positive and now I'm just-like fucking hell, listen to me complain, I'm miserable!" I found myself yelling. The car had since slowed to a stop outside my apartment building. Gerard parked the car, opening my door for me. I didn't want to come out; I wanted to shrink up and be absorbed into the leather seat and pretend I hadn't just been hysterical moments before.

"Come on, let's get you out of that dress," he said, suddenly blanching, "and into pajamas, I meant into pajamas, into something comfortable, oh my god." He threw his head back and sighed as he hooked his arm in mine, walking into the lobby and calling the elevator. I couldn't help but break a smile at that.

"God, you say that like it's a bad thing," I said quietly. I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye, the usual red blush covering his cheeks. I wiped a few straggling tears off my own as we ascended up to my floor. We could hear music booming from Frank's apartment from the level beneath me.

"That's not how I meant it and you know it," Gerard said lowly as I handed him over my keys, letting him unlock the door. "Take a seat, I'll make you some...tea?" His voice trailed upwards as he looked around the mess of my kitchen.

"I haven't had the time to do dishes the past few days, since I've been hanging out with you and Frank so much," I shrugged, slipping out of my boots and jacket. I wasn't entirely sure what Gerard was doing, but whatever it was, he was trying his best.

"You know what, we're just going to have nice fancy glasses of water since I can't find your tea," he announced, "I think we've both had enough to drink the past few days." I nodded in agreement, grimacing.

"You could say that." He sat down next to me on the couch, handing me the glass of water. "I'm sorry my apartment's so tiny; I just only ever needed a studio. It's not exactly perfect for entertaining guests, or whatever." I was suddenly incredibly self conscious.

"Don't worry about it. I mostly just wanted to make sure you got back home safely, didn't want to drop you off and just leave without seeing that you were good to go," Gerard admitted. "Your apartment looks like a palace compared to Frank's right now, let me tell you."

I laughed. "I can only imagine." I sipped my water quietly before Gerard spoke again.

"Do you want to talk about it more?" He asked tentatively.

"The more I talk about it, the more worked up I'll get. It was just a shit show that is always on my mind, and I just can never shut it off. Sleeping is a nightmare," I added.

"Do you take meds? I mean, if that's not too rude to ask. I don't care if you don't want to answer-"  
"You're fine. I just use over the counter stuff. I haven't been on meds for a long time. That's another story, though," I said. Gerard just nodded silently next to me.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me. Also our campus has free counseling if you wanted to try that."

It was my turn to nod silently. I was having a hard time processing somebody being this...attentive to my problems? I wasn't even sure where to begin. Wasn't I crossing some sort of line with Gerard being my professor? He was another consenting adult. It shouldn't matter that he was my teacher.

"Gerard, I-" I began to thank him when he cut me off, reached out to my face before cradling it between his two hands and closed the space between us with a kiss. I was caught completely off guard, but I would be lying if I said I hadn't hoped the night would end up somewhere along these lines. That whole time at the coffee brewery with me draped over his arm, breathing in his cologne and sweet muskiness.

Any doubt melted away in my mind as the kiss deepened with passion. Gerard's hands were soon cupping the back of my hand, tipping it back as he shifted on the couch. I ran my hands through his thick black hair, moaning softly into his mouth. I let go of his hair, sliding my hands down his neck to grab the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer to me. He broke the make out session, leaning back on his haunches as he started to take his jacket off. He slowly began to frown, freezing with his jacket half on.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my heart threatening to beat straight out of my chest.

"Wow, I really shouldn't be doing this." Gerard stood up off the couch, shrugging into his jacket again. He held out his hand to help me sit up.  
"What are you talking about?! Why?" I snapped. I felt like I was whining, but my feelings were hurt. What had I done wrong?"No, this is an abuse of my power. I told myself I wouldn't do this, but you were just sitting there, and you looked so pretty, and I like you so much and I wanted to kiss you all night what with everybody asking if we were dating...it's not like I could say you were my student, because that makes me look so-"

"Gerard," I snapped, cutting him off. "Stop. It's fine. You're not abusing your authority. If you were, you would tell me you wouldn't pass me if I didn't hook up with you. You're a really good guy, and I like you a lot, too. Please." I stood up, grabbing both of his hands. "You've helped me so much this past week."

"Saying I'm a 'good guy' is a bit of a stretch, but I appreciate it. I think I'm going to head out now, though. Thank you so much for coming tonight, again," he said, slowly wriggling out of my hands as he headed towards the door. He let himself out into the hallway as I leaned against the door frame. "I'm really sorry for...kissing you."

"It's okay. If it makes any difference, I enjoyed it a lot. I hope you did too," I said softly, trailing off at the end. Gerard's expression softened and he gave me a small smile.

"Of course I did. Goodnight, Charlotte," he said. I leaned through the door and kissed his cheek before I watched him shove his hands in his coat pocket and walk down the hall into the elevator. He gave me one last peek over his shoulder and a shy smile before the doors closed.

I closed my own apartment door, leaning against it on the inside. Those few minutes of making out had been pure bliss for me. His lips were so soft and he tasted like vanilla and a hint of smoke. I should have asked him to stay. But it was too late for that now.

I heard the unmistakable rumble of his car as he drove away from the building. I was feeling like shit. This night had been a whirlwind of ups and downs and I was exhausted. I didn't even know which direction was up anymore.

I began to pour myself another glass of wine before I remembered the six pack I had in the refrigerator. I recorked the bottle and hatched a plan. With the six pack under my arm, I climbed up a flight of stairs before I got to Frank's apartment, rapping hardly on the door. I could still hear music from the inside, so I rang the doorbell a few times for good measure.  
A few seconds later, Frank poked his head out of the door, smiling when he recognized me. "Hey Charlie, what's happening? Come in," he stepped back and opened the door for me to come inside. I squeezed by, setting the beer down loudly on his kitchen counter.

"Consider it a housewarming gift," I said, handing him one. "I was going to be sitting in my apartment drinking about my problems alone, so I figured I would come and drink about my problems with you." I popped the cap off of my beer.

"Good! Drinking about problems is in no way a slippery slope that leads to anything bad!" Frank shot me a look. "Which means, of course I'll drink with you. What happened? I thought tonight you and Gerard went to that show of his."

"We did and I saw a scary ex-boyfriend of mine which freaked me out and then…" I wasn't sure if Gerard would want me divulging this to Frank, but I was at wits' end when it came to dealing with Gerard. I had all sorts of feelings for him and practically nobody to talk to about it. "And then Gerard kissed me."

Frank slammed his hand down on the countertop, letting out a long "Woot!" He trailed off when he saw my forlorn expression. "Or, shit?"

"Frank I like him!" I blurted out. "But he doesn't like me. And he got all weird about it. And I don't know what to do." Frank sighed, motioning to the bottle in my hand.

"Sounds like you need more beer," he joked dejectedly. "Look, I don't think Gerard doesn't like you...if that makes sense. Gerard is-difficult. We've been friends since high school and I still haven't figured him out. He's got some problems. So if he's distancing you, I would just go with it for now. Then again, I am a firm believer in 'if it's meant to be, it will be', so take from that what you will."

"You're right. I am going to need more beer."


	8. Chapter 8

Gerard didn't call or text me at all within the last few days of break. Saturday came and went in an anxious blur; I took so many sleeping pills to help me calm down so I was in a zombie-like haze. It was nice to have a day of staying in and watching Netflix instead of getting drunk with Frank and Gerard, though I would have jumped at the chance to do so if there had been one.

I spent most of Sunday getting things ready for class again, heavily dreading Gerard's class the next morning. It was going to be so awkward. I definitely did not want to be the one to text him first and break the silence. I didn't want to look weak. I had always been the weak one when I had been dating Anthony and...even though I wished I was dating Gerard, I wasn't, and this was different. Hey, it was a big step for me to even admit that I wished I was dating him.

Couldn't remember the last time someone other than Anthony had made me feel something like this. Maybe it was a sign of healing and moving on, finally, after five years of horror. Jessica got back into town and invited me over to have a girls' night, but I had to decline. I wasn't in the mood for talking to other people right now. I especially wasn't in the mood to deal with Jessica asking me what I had been doing all break, because I knew she would get carried away if I responded truthfully.

After hanging out with Frank Friday night, my mind was more at ease than it would have been if I had avoided thinking or talking about Gerard with someone. Frank had divulged Gerard did talk about me, and not in a bad way; in a way that Frank assumed he had a thing for me. I was beginning to assume he had just gotten carried away with loneliness and alcohol.

Frank shot me a text Sunday night.

 **From FRANK, 7:49 PM  
Hey, how you holding up?**

 **To FRANK, 7:50 PM  
Meh. Nervous about teaching tomorrow?**

 **From FRANK, 7:51 PM  
Never! Let me know if you need anything.**

I needed to change his name from the obnoxious capitals to lowercase. He had insisted on putting it in my phone like that, so I would know it was him and not just any other Frank. Because, you know, Frank Iero is always shouting. Gerard says it's because he's short. Frank agrees.

As the night wore on, I wondered if any bar would be open late enough on a Sunday night. I didn't feel like cooking and definitely did not feel like going to the liquor store nearby. I wanted a drink premade and handed over to me with a burger and fries. Or wings. I could definitely go for some wings.

I walked the few blocks to one of the renowned dive bars of the area, O'Flannigan's. Sure, it was just a bar with a pub name, but I liked to pretend I was in an Irish pub and not right down the street from the hell hole of my university. It was surprisingly busy on a Sunday, and I realized that's because it was couples karaoke night. My stomach turned; I'd always loved the concept of 'couples' activities before I dated Anthony, but he always thought they were stupid.

The girl at the mic on the small stage had blonde hair in ringlets and chocolate eyes. She was wearing something akin to what a cowgirl would wear after she'd been torn up by a loose steer. The longer I stared at her, the weirder she seemed to me. I could have sworn I'd met her before, but I could not for the life of me figure out where in the hell I had seen her. She was probably just another student. Maybe she lived in my freshman dorm.

A few guys tried to hit on me, which was always an ego boost, but tonight I was definitely not feeling it. I only let one of them buy me a drink because he seemed nice. He was nerdy, with thick rimmed glasses and suspenders, but I had the feeling he was going for a more hipster vibe. We talked about our favorite video games, and it was refreshing. He seemed to forget he was trying to get into my pants and maybe he actually viewed me as a person for a few seconds.

That is, until someone shouldered up to him and told him to beat it. My heart froze in my chest. I wasn't sure who I had been expecting, but it definitely wasn't him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Anthony asked lowly. I was internally screaming, (what's new), but swallowed my feelings down with a mouthful of beer.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" I spat back. Not my finest comeback, I would admit that. He inched closer at me, probably to threaten me, but the sound of breaking glass caused us both to jump. There she was, in all her tube topped, denim mini-skirted glory, Blonde Cowgirl Karaoke Singer.

"Are you the skank that hit on my boyfriend and tricked him into sleeping with you?" She shrieked at me, her drink now in pieces on the floor. "You bitch!" I only had a moment to realize she was lunging for me, and at that point it was too late to duck. She brought me to the floor where she landed on me with a sickening thud. My shoulder was pressed into the fragments of glass she had just dropped on the ground.

"Holy shit, get off me, I don't even know who you are!" I screamed, muffled under her. She was trying to hit me, but mostly succeeded in slapping me and pulling my hair. After about half a minute of this, a group of guys successfully pulled her off of me screaming.

"Of course you don't know who I am, you _hussy_!" She spat at me. "I'm dating Anthony!"

From my sitting position on the floor, I almost just laid back down into the glass. Anything to not have to deal with this shitshow. But instead, I sighed, watching the blood drip down the side of my face into a neat little pool between my splayed legs. So Anthony had cheated on her with me. That made me feel...great. Fantastic. Valued. Definitely not cheap.

I finally got to my feet after somebody gave me a helping hand-I was pretty sure it had been the nerd I was talking to earlier, but I wasn't paying too much attention-and I wandered out the back door to the smoking alley. I just needed to feel the cold air. The breeze was like needles poking into my skin and I could still feel warmth dripping down my head, face, and arms. I had ripped up one of my favorite flannel shirts.

"Fuck!" I hissed, taking it off of me painfully and leaving me in a black camisole; the blood was beginning to congeal into it, causing more wounds to reopen. I balled up my shirt and pressed it on the deepest cut on my bicep. I figured since it was already ruined beyond repair, I might as well put it to good use.

"Were you one of those chicks in the fight in there?" Some guy walked up to me, flicking his cigarette into the dumpster.

"No, I just walk into bars and start bleeding everywhere," I cut at him sarcastically.

"Bitch," he said, spitting on the ground before walking away. I would walk home in a few minutes; right now, though, I needed to take a breather. I sunk to the ground against the back of the bar wall, sitting on my heels. _Just take a few seconds_ , I told myself. _Just breathe. Clean up when you get home._

The back of the bar opened again and someone swore under their breath when they saw me. I'm sure I was a sight to behold; blood was streaming from my hairline down the sides of my face and everywhere else, for that matter. I ignored them, staring down at the gravel between my knees. "Charlotte, what the fuck happened?" I recognized that voice. My cheeks grew hot, but not because of the blood on the outside.

"Oh my god, don't look at me," I begged Gerard. He crouched down, picking some small chips of glass out of my short hair.

"Yeah, let me just not look at you and leave you here, bleeding behind a bar," he said as he slipped his cigarettes back into his jacket pocket. He had been stepping out here for a smoke. Not to find the mangled body of one of his students he had drunkenly made out with in a moment of regret.

 _Maybe I was bitter._

"I'm not going to bleed to death, I'm fine. Somebody just got mad," I explained, trying to smile. I coughed up blood instead. _Close enough._

"Come on. We're not far from my place. Let's go." He hooked an arm under mine, hauling me to my feet. "I walked here, but we're getting a cab." A wave of relief washed over me. I really was in a lot of pain. That bitch had been heavy. The cabbie regarded us with wide eyes after we were dropped off outside of another apartment complex. Gerard had tipped him a lot, probably because I bled all over the leather interior. Most of it had wiped off.

His apartment building was nice. There was an armed security guard in the lobby who held the door open for us. Gerard silenced him by putting his hand up, "she's fine, just got in a biking accident. Thank you." At least Gerard was quick with his words today. I wasn't quick with my words or movements.

He lived on the sixteenth floor in a two bedroom apartment. One he used as his studio, the other was a plain old bedroom. The scent of incense permeated the entire apartment, even spreading out into the hallway. The walls were a deep red, and most of the furniture was black. It put my apartment to shame. He guided me to a seat at his dining room table.

"I think I'm dying," I spat, the blood running down the side of my head, pooling in my mouth. I cupped my hands under my chin to catch the overflow. I thought I was going to throw up.

"What the hell did you do, eat glass?" He hissed, but his concern was apparent. His eyes were wide but his hands moved expertly, as if he had dealt with something like this before. Gerard held a bucket under my face. "Spit," he instructed. Red splashed against the clean white plastic, making more bile churn in my stomach. I fought it back. He shoved gauze in my mouth, his eyes sparkling, clearly amused at my lacking of the ability to speak.

We were just sitting at his dining room table, staring each other down. Every now and then the corner of his mouth would twitch downwards in concern and he would readjust the gauze he had in and around my mouth, but mostly he just stared at me. I was sure I was a real spectacle; my shirt was ripped, my makeup and mascara had to be staining my cheeks by now, and I was sure my hair was a ratted mess.

After what seemed like hours but was in reality a few short minutes, Gerard pried my mouth open again, cleaning all of the gauze out with his fingers. I tried not to think about my art professor swirling his fingers around inside my mouth with some sort of angry fire in his eyes. I definitely was not thinking about that longer than I needed to. He dumped the bloody gauze into the formerly white trash can sitting on the ground before he began moving around the kitchen, mixing something in a glass.

He sat back down next to me, pushing the glass in my direction. "You're going to swish that around in your mouth then spit it back in there. Don't swallow it, because it'll probably kill you." I picked up the glass and did what he said, my insides churning at the way he was telling me to do things. Shut up. "While you are being the most obedient you've ever been regarding things I've told you to do, you might as well tell me what got you into this mess. After," he added, holding a finger up in the air, "you finish this anti bacterial swill to make sure you don't get an infection."

I spit the now bloody mixture into the glass. "Done. I got in a fight with someone. They were being shitty. Punches were thrown. Everybody was a little drunk. It's not like you can say that's never happened to you before," I said. My words were a little slurred; it felt like my jaw was slightly out of place. Everything about me just felt slightly off; I was glitching.

"Can I go home now? I don't think it's exactly professional for a professor to be cleaning their student's wounds at two in the morning. I just want to sleep," I groaned, attempting to stretch but hitching when I felt two ribs grinding together. I squeaked, lurching forward to lean on the dinner table as I curled my arms around my torso. "Just let me sleep." I couldn't help but notice how much colder he was being. It just confirmed my suspicions about how much he did actually regret kissing me.

"What's not professional is leaving someone in a bloody mess behind a closed bar. I'm just trying to be a decent human being." Gerard rose to his feet, dumping the glass of bloody chemicals down the kitchen sink. He then poured himself a cup of coffee I hadn't noticed brewing.

"Why on Earth are you pouring coffee this late? Or early? It's almost half past two. You need to go to sleep, you have classes to teach tomorrow-"

"And you have classes to attend tomorrow. Tell me, Charlie, which one of us was out getting in fights in bars tonight on a school night?" Gerard narrowed his eyes at me over his smoldering coffee. _Charlie. He called me Charlie.  
_  
"May I remind you that you were also out in bars on a school night? Maybe you weren't getting in fights but I can hardly say we had different plans for the night; go out to a bar, get drunk enough so somebody there looks halfway decent enough to go home with, and sneak out before lecture at eight in the morning," I said into the coffee table. "Maybe you just didn't happen to run into an ex-boyfriend but that's not your fault, Mr. Way."

A startling crash on the tile kitchen floor jerked me upright, ready to sprint from this fucking place. But all I saw was a wide eyed Gerard, one hand clutching the countertop to steady himself, the other one curled into a fist where his coffee had been a moment ago. He was bent slightly at the waist, so his long, unkempt hair was shrouding his face.

I scooted the chair back, slowly rising to my feet. "I really appreciate you fixing me up, Mr. Way. I should really get back to my apartment now though, and shower so I can...so I can sleep before I need to get up for lecture tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow though. Right?" I began to back towards the door.

"So that's who did this to you? A jilted ex-lover? How poetic. How disgusting. I can't believe this," he kneeled down and began picking the pieces of his mug up off the kitchen floor. I realized I should help him before fleeing into the night and grabbed a chunk of paper towels to soak up the rest of the coffee. "Was it the same guy from a few days ago?"

I couldn't really speak right now, so I just nodded. He sighed, running another coffee stained hand through his hair before rising back up to his feet. "And on the last day of Thanksgiving break, nonetheless. Happy fucking holidays, huh?" I wasn't sure who he was talking to, if anybody in particular. I felt another warm sensation on the side of my head, touching a finger to it. It came back red. "Charlotte, we really should get you to a hospital to see if you need stitches. I have the sinking feeling that you wouldn't be comfortable with that."

I threw my head back with a sigh, wincing immediately at the pain that accompanied this movement. "I really don't want to. Can we just wait?"

"Until when? You said it yourself, it's already two in the morning, we have to be at campus in a few hours. I'd rather not have you die in my apartment," he added thoughtfully.

"I really appreciate that," I said sarcastically. "I don't want to see a doctor."

"It can't hurt! There's nothing wrong with being cautious-"

"I don't have fucking medical insurance, Gerard. I can't afford it, okay?" I snapped, regretting my tone when I saw his expression soften. "I'm sorry."

"Instead of telling you how that's technically illegal, especially since you're a college student, I'm going to give you an ultimatum; you either let me take you to the hospital, or you stay here and stay up with me tonight so we can make sure you're not concussed," he said calmly. I raised my eyebrows.

"Can we watch movies?" I asked, a small grin creeping up on my lips. I watched as he rolled his eyes comically, shoulders slumping in a fake sigh.

"I guess. It's not like I have papers to grade or anything," he smirked. "Let me grab some clothes for you. They're, uh, going to be rather big but I don't want you in...those," he gestured vaguely to my body. I had to stifle a laugh.

I nodded in agreement. We had since thrown out my formerly favorite flannel. It was now sitting at the bottom of a bloody trash can. He came back with some sweats.

"They're the smallest I could find. The bathrooms right over there, and if you want to shower, which I'm not pressuring you to do but you are literally covered in blood, feel free." I gave him a thumbs up. "Towels are under the sink," he said quickly before I closed the door behind me. I checked out my reflection in the mirror, biting back a shriek. A shower was definitely in order.

After I took the bloodiest shower yet in my life, I chose a dark towel so I wouldn't stain anything. The pajamas he had lent me were so warm and cozy; I felt like I was swaddled in clouds.

"Now remember, no falling asleep," he said before turning the television on and pulling a stack of papers into his lap. He had been sure to sit on the loveseat. I was on the couch on the right.

"How do you expect me to stay awake watching CNN?" I joked. He tossed the remote in my direction.

"Go crazy, kid."

My heart did weird things when he called me that.


End file.
